


Friday Night at Josie's

by Kryptaria, rayvanfox



Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, NOT a zombie apocalypse fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kryptaria/pseuds/Kryptaria, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayvanfox/pseuds/rayvanfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tonight of all nights, Foggy didn't expect a visitor at Josie's. He certainly didn't bargain for Captain America's pet assassin to walk through the door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friday Night at Josie's

**Author's Note:**

> A quick little ficlet, because Bucky and Foggy need a support group for people in love with idiot superheroes with no sense of self-preservation.
> 
> Thanks to our wonderful betas, neverwhere, pangallimaufry, and zephyrfox!

Josie’s was deserted — unusual for a Friday night, especially since Josie and the regulars were all in the neighborhood. They were just... not themselves tonight. As in, they were all mindless, blank-eyed, feet-shuffling zombie-selves instead of the drunk, exhausted-after-a-week’s-work zombie-selves they usually were. Hell, Foggy almost hadn’t been able to tell the difference, until one of them tried to take a bite out of him.

Not that they were anywhere in a three-block radius now. Not since a certain someone had decided to play bait and lure them all away while trying to find the source of the zombification. What _that_ could be, Foggy couldn’t imagine. Considering New York’s history over the last few years — alien robots, gods, all that — he didn’t _want_ to imagine. Drinking was a much better option.

He opened a new bottle of ‘the eel’ because it was _that_ kind of night, then poured himself a shot. He wondered briefly if he should pour one for Matt, too, but who knew how long it would be before he came back. Foggy had judiciously stopped worrying whether he _would_ come back, because Matt made fun of him when he somehow managed always to show up again, grinning at Foggy’s baffled but grateful shake of the head.

But then he heard the door swing quickly open, and, certain it wasn’t a zombie entering, he reached for another shot glass. No one else knew he was here, and it wasn’t a night for casual bar hopping, so without looking away from pouring, he asked, “So, how’d it go?”

“You can talk,” said someone who _wasn’t_ Matt. Heavy Brooklyn accent, gruff voice, a healthy edge of sarcasm.

“That makes two of us,” Foggy answered as he held up a glass and looked at his visitor. _Hot damn._ Foggy wasn’t particularly queer, but this guy was startlingly close to his type: dark hair, strong jaw, not super tall but solidly built, and he had a quirk to his smile that spelled roguish charm. And his eyes were all sorts of bright sky blue. “Um... drink?”

“Nothin’ else to do tonight,” the guy said, then _thumped_ a long rifle onto the bar. Not some classy hunting rifle, but something mean and matte black with spiky attachments and a scope that implied he regularly shot targets a couple of miles away.

Foggy blinked at a bright spot of chrome on the gun, thinking it was awfully out of place, gleaming silver against that light-absorbing black. And then the chrome moved, a ripple of twitches — one, two, three, four — like fingers.

No, not _like_ fingers. Actual chrome fingers on a chrome hand attached to a chrome wrist that disappeared under the guy’s leather jacket.

“You’re...” Foggy looked back up at the hot guy’s face, factoring the haircut and the shave and the general looking-like-a-regular-human thing into his image of the Winter Soldier — the image that had been all over the news not long after S.H.I.E.L.D. imploded all over D.C.

 _Right._ This wasn’t that guy; this was Bucky Barnes. Someone — probably the insanely rich Tony Stark — had done a lot to rebrand Barnes from a threat into one of the good guys over the past year. Not that it was hard to believe such a thing when Captain-freaking-America and Black Widow and that new cool Avenger with the wings, Falcon, all vouched for him.

“Yeah. Um, did your plans fall through?” Foggy stuck the full glass in his hand further out in offering.

Barnes took the glass with a nod and a “Thanks.” His metal hand stayed on the gun. The tapping of his fingers was the only hint of agitation. “Eighty years ago, two guys couldn’t go out on a date without getting arrested. Now, we can’t even go for coffee without” — he used the glass to gesture out at the eerily empty street — “whatever the hell’s going on _this_ time.”

“Date?” Foggy had been grumbling to himself about how he and Matt hadn’t had a night to themselves in forever, but he never would have called what they did a _date._ Wait, Barnes had said ‘we’. Were the rumors around the fact that he and Captain America were always hanging out together true? _Holy shit._ “Were you and Cap on a— is Captain Rogers out there right now?”

After draining half the glass, Barnes let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah. Dumbass. And don’t get any ideas about getting some behind-the-scenes video. He’s enough of a pain in the ass _without_ another civilian to babysit. As if a whole street full of whatever — zombies or something — isn’t bad enough.”

“Oh. Ha. No, I got over that real quick. I thought it would be cool to watch, but I end up covering my eyes most of the time. I just don’t like seeing Matt get beat up that much — and he does, the idiot. I just stay out of the way now, and he crawls back when he’s done.” Foggy held up his own glass for a second, then downed most of it and managed not to cough when it hit his throat.

“Matt.” Barnes frowned. _Tap-tap-tap-tap_ went those metal fingers. “That crazy guy who thinks he’s Natalya?” The name came out sounding Russian.

Foggy nodded, even though he wasn’t positive who Natalya was. “That freaking idiot blind guy who has spidey sense on steroids and thinks it’s his job to keep the city safe, when really it’s being a damned good lawyer with me.” He straightened up slightly to add, “Daredevil. Matt. My partner.”

Barnes finished his drink, then pushed the empty glass across the bar, just to one side of his rifle. “You’re dating an idiot, too? What the hell? Is it trendy or something?”

“Ah, partner as in...” Was it a good idea to quibble about semantics with an ex-assassin? Foggy could kid himself and say he and Matt were just friends and coworkers, but it wasn’t exactly true. Not recently with the number of times Foggy had stayed over at Matt’s and shared his bed. Even if Matt still didn’t seem to want to _do_ much — which was discouraging given how he seemed to have no problem with the ladies — they weren’t strictly _friends_ anymore. So he just sighed and said, “Yeah. I’m guessing it’s whatever makes them think they’re invincible and can save the world with their fists. Though I guess yours isn’t deluding himself, is he? Talk about a perfect specimen...”

“Wrong.” Barnes pointed at Foggy, then motioned for him to get on with pouring seconds. “Mine’s ninety pounds of crazy and has been since before Stark came into the picture. Like one of those little dogs that thinks it’s a Rottweiler, only it’s smaller than your shoe and can’t bite its way out of a paper bag? That’s my Steve.”

“But that guy is like two hundred fifty pounds of pure muscle. Mine’s a buck seventy at most, and nowhere near six feet. Matt’s like a pitbull puppy who likes pain or something. I dunno. Karen and I have our hands full keeping him in one piece.” Foggy slid Barnes’ full glass over and picked up his own.

“Two point seven,” Barnes said, turning the glass on the bar. “Ninety pounds of crazy, turned into two hundred fifty pounds of ‘I can survive anything’ makes him two point seven times crazier than he started. He jumps out elevators and airplanes without ropes or a parachute or anything.” He shook his head and picked up the glass. “Yours is a regular human, isn’t he? Only blind?”

“Yeah, that’s the damned trouble. I mean, all his other senses are heightened enough he could probably be eavesdropping on us right now if he weren’t getting the shit kicked out of him, but he isn’t super strong or awesome at healing or something really useful. It’s hell keeping the first aid kit stocked. And of course he hates hospitals, but he’s got this one hot nurse friend...” Foggy needed to shut up. And he definitely didn’t need to gripe to Captain America’s boyfriend about Claire. She wasn’t the problem.

Another sigh, ending only when Barnes put the glass to his lips and took a drink. “He’s gotta be good for _something_ , your guy. Steve didn’t kick _him_ out of the fight.”

 _Oh._ That was interesting. Barnes and his gun weren’t allowed. Of course. “Well, no offense, sir, but Matt’s really good at incapacitating people without killing them. And if all of these zombified folks are just ordinary New Yorkers turned weird and mindless, then...” He gestured to the gun. “I’m glad that’s not in play.”

Barnes shrugged. “So what about you?”

Foggy chuckled merrily. “What _about_ me? I’m just a lawyer. Look at me.” He gestured to his not-at-all-muscled torso. “I’m not special.”

Barnes frowned and shifted on his stool so he could rest his metal arm against the bar. “You’re not his sharpshooter? Tech? Recon scout?”

“Nope. I’m just the guy he works with at his day job, and one of the few people he lets stitch him up when he comes home bloody. Me and Karen both.” Foggy sipped his drink and tried not to wince at the taste. Karen was right that this stuff was truly awful. “I bet Cap’s glad to have you at his back.”

“Your guy’s gotta feel the same way about you — _especially_ if you’re not useful in a fight.” Barnes said it sincerely, only frowning again once the words were out. A little uncertainly, he added, “Not that everyone _has_ to be useful, these days.”

“Well, honestly, it kinda sucks when there’s nothing I can do. That’s why I’m in here drinking instead of watching helplessly and feeling bad. Matt says it gives him peace of mind to know Karen and I are safe, but...” Foggy shook his head and brought his glass to his lips, but before he took another sip he added, “I’d rather be handy, like you.”

“If he keeps you around, there’s _something_ about you that he needs.” Barnes grinned, and eighty years of World War II vet-turned-brainwashed-assassin melted away. “That or he’s just using you for sex, which isn’t all that bad, either.”

“God, I fucking _wish,_ ” Foggy whined before he caught himself. “I mean, don’t tell him I said that, please. He’s got enough on his plate. We’ve just been friends forever, and I thought he appreciated how considerate I was about his disability, but turns out he doesn’t need me for that. He’s better at interpreting his surroundings than I am, so... Yeah. I dunno what he needs me for.” He rested his head against his forearm on the bar and tried to quell the dizziness that came over him.

Barnes gave a thoughtful sort of grunt. “Your Matt... He’s the guy who took down Fish, right?”

“Fisk, yeah,” Foggy said, enunciating the end of the word. “Asshole extraordinaire. Killed a shitload of people, tried to frame Matt for it, and had the entire police force in the palm of his hand. Bad guy.” He didn’t raise his head, but watched Barnes’ handsome face and tried not to imagine him and Captain America boning. He didn’t really try hard enough. Oh, well.

“Right, Fisk. So your Matt takes down this guy who’s almost as much of a pain in the ass as Stark — the new one, Tony, I mean. And Matt _keeps you_. Doesn’t dump you on the curb as a complication. How does that make you think he feels?”

“Like he’s always felt — that I’m his best friend. We have years of history. I mean, not as much as you and your Steve, but... you don’t kick that to the curb, right?” Foggy didn’t know much about Barnes except what he’d read of the Howling Commandos, but he knew loyalty when he saw it.

“Even when I _didn’t_ know him, I couldn’t get him out of my head.” There was something almost shy about the way Barnes looked down and shrugged. “It’s probably the same with your guy and you. Otherwise, he woulda sent you out of the city. I mean, if you got turned into one of those zombies, he’s gotta be _certain_ you’d still know him. Right?”

Foggy blinked. He hadn’t thought about that possibility. Odds were that Matt had, though. “Huh. Yeah. I know him better than I know anyone — family included, at this point.” There was something familiar about this scenario though. “But that’s no guarantee. Is that not something you’re worried about? That Steve would forget you if he went all zombie?”

Barnes gave Foggy an odd look. “Super-soldier, remember? He’s immune to everything, except more stupid.”

“Damn. Yeah. Does that mean you’re immune, too? I wish I could get something like that for Matt.” Foggy shook his head and finished off his drink. He gestured to Barnes’ glass. “More?”

Barnes finished his own drink, then held out the glass. “Even if I’m not, I’ve come back from worse. And Steve wouldn’t have let your guy stick around if there was too much of a risk. A risk for normal people, I mean. Not for idiots who wouldn’t know a risk if it kicked them in the face.”

Pouring was starting to become a challenge, but that didn’t stop Foggy from filling both of their glasses. “Well, then, neither of them is the best judge, huh? If Matt comes back all zombified, you have to knock him out. Don’t kill him, just... you know. Don’t let him eat me. He’s got enough Catholic guilt already. He doesn’t need eating his best friend or partner or whatever piled on top of that.”

“I think they just bite and move on. I didn’t see anyone getting eaten.” Barnes shrugged. “Course, I also was yelling at Steve to actually throw a damn punch or something before they swarmed him. Idiot. Or _idiots_ , plural. Both of ’em.” He lifted his glass in a wry toast.

Foggy concentrated on clinking glasses with him, then said, “To our idiots. How we love them,” and drank. After swallowing, he added, “Do you? Love him? I know it’s none of my business, but...”

Barnes laughed and put down his glass, empty. The alcohol didn’t seem to be affecting him at all. “If I didn’t love him, I probably woulda shot him. _Twice_. Aggravating bastard. Every time I look away, he’s trying to get himself killed again. In fact, you know those leashes people use on their kids?”

Foggy nodded, then stopped so he didn’t fall off his bar stool. “Yeah?”

“You should get one of those for your Matt,” Barnes advised, dead-serious. “I just need to find something Steve can’t rip apart with his bare hands.”

“Matt’s suit is made of this lightweight fabric that can withstand all sorts of shit. He says it’s better than a bulletproof vest. I don’t believe him, but, you know. Maybe that stuff would work.” Foggy reached out for Barnes’ arm and continued, “But hey. Hey, how did you do it? How did you tell him and get him to listen?” He knew there was a line somewhere and he was pretty sure he’d crossed it, but his question seemed the most important thing at the moment, and he couldn’t help asking advice of someone who had clearly figured their shit out.

Something in Barnes’ smile went sharp and dangerous. How long had he spent as a brainwashed assassin? More to the point, how recently had he supposedly recovered?

“I started dropping bodies at his place,” Barnes said, sobering Foggy more efficiently than a pot of Karen’s worst coffee. “By the eighth one, he sorta figured things out.”

“Jesus. You sound like the worst sort of pet cat.” Foggy hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but now that he had... “You gave him corpses as presents? And he saw that as _romantic?_ ”

Barnes blinked innocently. “They were all HYDRA. I was just cleaning up the mess, after what happened in D.C.”

 _That is some seriously fucked up shit._ But Foggy could tell that it made sense to Barnes, and obviously Rogers had accepted it. He had to remember these guys were from a different time. They lived through the worst of World War II for Christ’s sake. He tried to respond diplomatically. “Well, I’m sure he appreciated the help, but that wouldn’t work with Matt.”

“Well, no. You just have to figure out what he likes, then give it to him. I mean, maybe not on his doorstep, if he’s _really_ blind.” Barnes looked skeptical at that. “He fights _really_ well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Foggy couldn’t help puffing up in pride, but it didn’t last long as he tried to imagine what Matt would like on his doorstep. “But he likes pain and pretty girls, and I already let him have Karen...”

That got him two blinks. “Well, there are shops — legal ones, I guess — that sell those kid harnesses, only for adults, and in leather. They can probably help with the pain part of things, judging by what I saw in there.”

 _Holy fucking hell._ Foggy was _not_ getting recommendations of sex shops and kink accoutrements from Bucky freaking Barnes of the damned Howling Commandos. Shaking his head to rid himself of the image of Captain America in a leather harness, and only half succeeding, Foggy said weakly, “Yeah, I’m not sure if I could be the one to hurt him. I’ll have to think about it.”

“If it’s what he wants, it might be the best way to tell him how you feel,” Barnes said logically. “I mean, that’s a _thing_ , right? Liking pain like _that_? Steve just got himself beat up once a week because he couldn’t say no to a fight.”

“Right. That’s the problem. I dunno if he’s like Steve or if he’s like _that._ I mean, he’s Catholic and his dad was a boxer so he’ll never stop fighting, but I dunno if he actually gets off on it.”

“Huh. Yeah, boxers can get a little weird,” Bucky said thoughtfully. He finished his drink and gestured for a refill. “I tried teaching Steve to box. It was... I guess he got credit for trying, but he was _really_ bad.”

“Not so good at protecting his face? That’s Matt’s problem. No sense of self-preservation. Makes me crazy.” Foggy pushed the bottle to Barnes to keep from spilling when pouring. “Speaking of, do you think they’re doing okay out there? Should we check on them or something?”

Barnes poured for himself, then for Foggy, unasked-for. “I don’t know what would get him more pissed: me leaving you unprotected or me bringing you into the field of fire.”

“I was fine before you showed up. But this is _not_ me trying to get rid of you. Sit here and drink the eel with me, by all means. I just thought... I dunno.” For all his griping, Foggy really did have faith in their idiot superheroes. He just... he missed Matt and hoped he was okay.

Barnes nodded decisively and gave Foggy’s glass a little push. “Good. I hate drinking alone. And besides, we have work to do here.”

“Like what?” Foggy sipped his drink, which was ten times more disgusting than gulping, but at least it wouldn’t get him to blackout drunk. He wanted to retain a shred of dignity — and consciousness — on a night like tonight.

“Getting you and your guy together.”

 

~~~

 

Josie’s was a familiar assault on the senses. Cheap alcohol and cheaper, watered-down cleaning products used only when the Department of Health was in the neighborhood. The sticky floors were silent — no one was wandering about — and not just one but two barstools creaked, off-rhythm from each other, though one was obviously Foggy’s special brand of fidget.

Captain Rogers stepped ahead of Matt, then stopped himself with a rustle of denim and once-nice cotton. Matt nodded in appreciation and got the door for himself, though he would’ve nodded in thanks if Rogers had opened it for him. He’d treated Matt like an asset in the fight. _Listened_ when Matt had warned him about the battery backup on the mind-control relay tower. That was what counted.

When the door hinges squealed, a slow, unfamiliar heartbeat gave two hard, rapid beats. Electricity hummed. No, _not_ electricity, but something like it. The pitch was too high, the oscillations all wrong. At least two dozen pieces of metal scraped against each other, polished so smooth as to be nearly soundless.

The scent of Rogers’ body wash — store-brand stuff from Waldbaum’s — doubled, coming from ahead and behind, only ahead came with the smell of gun oil barely covering the acrid smell of discharged bullets, at least a day old. No fresh gunpowder. No blood except for the old, bitter aftertaste that Josie had never washed off the underside of the pool table.

So the Winter Soldier was here, with Foggy. And he and Rogers were... wow, they were in love? Rogers was smiling, his breath had sped up, and he moved quickly towards the bar. A barstool squealed, two heavy boots hit the floor, and Rogers let out a gasp that was suspiciously silenced.

 _Kissing_.

Rogers broke the kiss with another gasp. “Buck!”

“What? It’s fine.” Nice voice, Brooklyn accent thicker than Rogers’. A charming hint of laughter. “They’re a _thing_.”

“A —” Rogers groaned.

“A firm,” Foggy interrupted, clearing his throat before adding, “We’re partners in a law firm, Mr., um, Captain Rogers, sir.” He sounded nervous. Was he getting stage fright in front of Captain America? Then he quickly added, “Ah, but yeah, we’re fine with...”

“Excuse Foggy, please. He’s...” Matt sniffed, catching not just the familiar smell of Foggy, his hair and rumpled suit after a long day, but also the five — no, seven? — shots he’d had with the Winter Soldier. Barnes. Rogers had referred to him as Bucky, but that sounded too familiar. He’d also had that much to drink, but seemed unfazed. “Drunk.”

“He’s _fine_ ,” Barnes said dismissively. There was a rustle of fabric, followed by the synchronized acceleration of two heartbeats. No, three.

“Foggy?” Rogers asked, sounding confused.

“Foggy. Not any worse than Bucky, I would think.” Foggy was amused, but in the most innocent way possible, and Matt could tell that Rogers and Barnes didn’t take offense.

Another shift, away from Matt, towards Foggy. Matt almost stepped protectively forward, but if he couldn’t trust Captain America with Foggy, who could he trust?

“Good to meet you, Foggy,” Rogers said. They shook hands over Foggy’s nervous laugh. “Thanks for keeping Buck here company.”

“My pleasure, Captain. He’s a good drinking buddy. Can’t hold his liquor worth a damn, but...” Foggy’s smile overtook his words and melted into a chuckle. Barnes and Rogers joined in.

Then Rogers said, “Oh. Bucky, this is, uh... Matt. The guy the papers call Daredevil.”

“Hey.” Barnes came closer. The not-quite-electric sound had to be the metal arm Matt had heard so much about. “Good to meet you.” He extended his hand — the flesh and blood one.

“You too,” Matt said as he grasped hold and shook. A strong grip, calloused, a hand used more in violence than tenderness, but everything in Barnes’ stance and demeanor indicated friendliness. “An honor, really. Foggy didn’t give you any trouble?”

“Nah. He barely even spilled anything on the bar. Though, uh, there’s _something_ at the bottom of that bottle, and it might still be alive.”

 _“What?”_ Rogers practically yelped. “Bucky —”

“It’s still in there,” Barnes said innocently.

“You made him drink the eel, Foggy?” Matt scolded. “Come on! He’s a special guest. Break out the good stuff.”

“Josie threatened to have my head the last time I tried that,” Foggy protested as he leaned over the bar for a bottle of something better. Whiskey, by the smell of it. “Speaking of, is she okay? What happened out there?”

“Everybody’s gonna be fine,” Rogers said in the sort of soothing voice that had kept Manhattan calm after the Chitauri invasion. News crews loved him. “Minor injuries and disorientation only. I called for a pickup to get the tech secured.”

“Like Stark needs more toys?” Barnes muttered.

“Stark’s the only one who can defuse the booby trap they left behind,” Rogers said wryly. “As it is, I nearly —” He cut the word off so quickly, his teeth clicked together.

Barnes let out a low growl. “You _nearly_...”

Rogers’ heartbeat jumped. “Like I said, everything’s fine.”

“You nearly _what?_ ” Before Rogers could answer, Barnes snapped, “Matt. What’d he do _this_ time?”

“Hey,” Rogers protested. “He helped. If he hadn’t heard that second circuit, something might’ve triggered.”

“Cap and I had it under control, Mr. Barnes. Sergeant. He’s got his head on straight and between the two of us, we took care of the situation.” Matt stepped closer to them, homing in on Barnes’ breathing, and faced him. “I had his back.”

He could feel Barnes’ regard. Foggy shifted, betraying discomfort. Matt could just imagine the expression on Barnes’ face — but he could hear the truth in Barnes’ physiology. Yes, he was angry, but not at Matt.

Right on cue, Barnes turned away with a rustle of denim and creak of leather. “Doesn’t make you any less stupid,” he accused, with just a hint of tremor in his voice. “What the hell, Steve? You gotta go almost blowing yourself up now?”

Rogers didn’t sound surprised by the outburst. “Bucky —”

_“We talked about explosives!”_

“It was just C4,” Rogers said almost sweetly, and Bucky groaned.

That was one hell of a basis for a relationship.

“Guys, it’s cool. Everyone’s safe and sound, and it’s time for a celebratory drink. Come on.” Foggy paused long enough to sloppily pour four shots of whiskey. “Drink with me!”

Matt bellied up to the bar, unable to keep from smiling at Foggy. Leave it to him to bring the sunshine back after the stormclouds of an argument. “Happily. Thanks, Foggy. Captain?” He picked up two of the shot glasses and held one out for Rogers.

“Thanks,” Rogers said, relieved, as he took the shot glass. On his other side, Barnes did the same. “Listen, Matt. You mind if I get in touch with you if something goes down and I need help?”

“Or someone to keep you from killing yourself,” Barnes said wryly.

“I wouldn’t presume to take that job from you, Barnes. You seem to take it very seriously.” Matt held up his glass in salute.

Barnes reached past Rogers to tap Matt’s glass with his own. “Ninety damn years, I’ve been pulling his ass out of the fire. He doesn’t learn.”

“I’m better equipped to handle it now,” Rogers cut in.

“Yeah, except _you_ take that as a challenge,” Barnes said over the creak of leather, followed by a suppressed yelp of surprise.

Did Barnes just pat Rogers’ ass? He was incorrigible. “Why do I feel like Cap has his hands full with _you_ a lot of the time?”

Barnes laughed, low and wicked. “That was kinda the point of tonight. And why we picked _Hell’s Kitchen_ for a date, where none of the Avengers would bug us.”

“This sort of thing happens, Buck,” Rogers said apologetically.

“Around you? Yeah, I’m getting that idea.”

“At least yours can’t hear shit two boroughs over that he just _needs_ to go fix, even if it’s movie night.” Foggy sounded both put out and proud, and Matt couldn’t decide if he was in trouble or not. Granted, he’d never heard Foggy imply any sort of ownership before, so maybe it wasn’t trouble he was in for.

“No, he’s got text alerts for that.” Barnes swallowed his drink and put down the glass. Then, with an “Aha!” he started frisking Rogers, whose protests didn’t sound all that sincere. A few quick beeps told Matt that Barnes had Rogers’ phone.

Instead of trying to get his phone back, Rogers said, “You really are amazing, Matt. I’d love to see what you could do in Stark’s training gym.”

 _Holy shit._ Did Captain America just tell him he was good enough to spar with? Matt felt his cheeks flush and he bent his head slightly, embarrassed. “I, um, thanks. I haven’t fought someone who wasn’t trying to kill me in a long time.”

Before Rogers could respond, Foggy leaned over and put his arm around Matt’s shoulders, saying, “That’s my Matty. He’s good at his job. Both jobs. You should see him in the courtroom.” Foggy was drunk, but he was warm and familiar and surprisingly strong.

“Let’s hope we don’t need to,” Rogers said with a soft laugh. “Though I gotta say, I thought all modern-day lawyers were assholes, until you two.”

“Matt wouldn’t let me be an asshole. He wanted to play good guy. Which is _not_ where the money is.” Foggy turned, and his breath was hot on Matt’s cheek. It made him shiver.

“Foggy couldn’t be an asshole if he tried. Don’t let him convince you otherwise. His nickname is Foggy Bear.” Matt grunted at how tight Foggy’s hold became.

“Shh, Matt. Shut up,” Foggy stage-whispered into his ear. “I’m trying to look cool in front of the superheroes.”

“And what am I, chopped liver?” Matt teased, grinning widely.

Before Foggy could come up with an answer, Barnes said, “The Leather Man.” The plastic _thud_ had to be Rogers’ phone hitting the bar. “Down in the Village. Christopher Street, between Bedford and Bleeker.”

“Bucky, oh my God. Not _now!_ ” Foggy’s arm slid from Matt’s shoulder as his voice rose an octave in alarm.

 _What the hell had they been talking about?_ Not only did the suggestion sound inappropriate, but Foggy was on a first name basis with Barnes. A flush of jealousy blossomed over Matt’s skin as he said, “Should I ask?”

“Sounds like some crazy supervillain,” Rogers said curiously.

Barnes snickered. “Not even close.” He spun the phone on the bar.

Rogers made a strangled noise. “Where the _hell_... Bucky!”

“What? You have an app for that. Stark’s ‘Out and Proud in New York City’ guide.”

Matt’s mouth went dry just as he heard Foggy swallow nervously. What was Barnes playing at? Did he _know_ something? Had Foggy been talking about how Matt kept convincing him to stay over, even though he inevitably chickened out before he could make anything happen? Or was Barnes flirting in some weird way? “What would Foggy—”

“ _I_ wasn’t the one talking about keeping my superhero on a leash, Barnes.” Foggy’s heart was too fast. Matt shook his head, trying to parse whether it was nerves or lies that caused it. Either one was somewhat damning, though.

“Oh, my God,” Rogers said with a groan. “Bucky...”

“It’s a good idea. Especially after you almost got yourself blown up tonight.” Barnes sighed. “But yeah, Matt. Thanks for saving his ass. If you need to make someone disappear, have Foggy give me a call. He’s got my number.”

“He’s what?” Matt couldn’t stop himself from turning a frown on Barnes. He knew he didn’t have any right to be jealous, but it didn’t mean he could control it.

“I lifted his phone when he was singing to the eel. Your guy there’s kind of a weird drunk,” Barnes said. “He also gave me your business card. Three times.”

Matt sighed as he listened to Barnes’ heartbeat. Steady. He managed a smile, even as the words _your guy_ were doing weird things to his own pulse. “Yeah, I’m sure Stark has an entire legal department, but you know, just in case.”

“None of Stark’s lawyers could hold off waves of mind-controlled zombies,” Rogers said. “But we should clear out before the legitimate reporters get down here. We’re probably already on YouTube.”

“In those jeans?” Barnes asked. “I’m winning the betting pool again.”

Rogers sighed. “You know, modern technology has its drawbacks.”

“If you’re nostalgic for Nazis with laser-tanks...”

“It’s not _your_ butt on YouTube.”

“Technically, this” — another suppressed yelp from Rogers — “ _is_ mine. I’ve been watching it longer than everyone else combined.”

“If that’s all it takes to claim ownership, then...” Foggy trailed off and downed his drink in one gulp.

Matt opened his mouth to add some witty ending to Foggy’s sentence, but he drew a blank. Well, he couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t blatantly homosexual, and though he was obviously in the right company for that sort of thing, he stalled out on the implication that Foggy stared at his ass. Was that what he’d just said? “Do you check out my— Never mind.” He cleared his throat and reached for the bottle with the eel, but there were only dregs left.

Barnes was suspiciously quiet. Rogers gave an embarrassed, nervous laugh. “Right,” he said, clothes rustling as he moved close to Barnes and picked up the phone off the bar. “We’ll, uh... You two will be okay?”

“They’re fine,” Barnes said. “Foggy can take care of things here. Right, Foggy?”

“Ah, yeah. Of course.” There was a note of false cheer in Foggy’s voice, and it tugged at Matt’s chest. “G’night, fellas. Get home safe.” Foggy turned away from Matt to shake hands with Barnes and Rogers, and all Matt could manage was a nod and a wave with a perfunctory smile. It wasn’t a reflection of his feelings for their new superhero friends; it oddly was to do with being left alone with Foggy. Everything in him was wound too tight.

Caught up in trying to decipher his own feelings, he paid little attention to the metal-and-plastic clicks of Barnes disassembling the rifle in a cloud of gun oil and old smoke. Rustling leather told Matt that Barnes was stowing the parts in his jacket. It took only seconds, and Matt was certain that, other than the metal hand, Barnes looked like any other anonymous pedestrian out for a late-night walk on the city streets.

After the usual round of handshakes and repeated farewells, Barnes and Rogers left. The door hinges squealed, and the click of the latch was as loud as a gunshot.

“So... drink?” Foggy offered awkwardly, and to bypass having to clear his throat again, Matt just nodded.

The glasses weren’t even full before Matt caught his breath at the slam of a body against the brick wall in the alley. “Jesus,” he let slip just as he realized that the growl accompanying the attack was low and sensual, full of heat and desire.

 _Shit._ That was hot.

“What?” Foggy said, turning to face him, concern in his voice.

“Ha. Um...” Be truthful or pretend like nothing was happening? The panting and brush of skin and clothing together was too much to ignore, so Matt gave up and said, “Rogers and Barnes are making out in the alley.”

“Shit. Really? I mean, of course. They’re a gorgeous couple and Bucky couldn’t keep his hands to himself, but... You can hear them? Isn’t that a breach of privacy?”

“I... I don’t know. It’s fucking hot, though. They know each other’s bodies well.”

“Jesus, Matt. You can’t just sit there and... I dunno. Come on. Focus on something else.” Foggy sounded uncomfortable in a way Matt was just starting to parse these days. As if he were frustrated, but not necessarily _at_ Matt.

“Distract me, then.” It was out before Matt realized how it sounded, but he wasn’t going to back down now — not after hanging out with a couple like Rogers and Barnes and feeling like they were all on a double date.

“How, exactly?” Foggy’s tone had an uncharacteristically cautious edge to it, though he moved just a bit closer.

Matt turned on his stool to face Foggy more fully, and smirked as he said, “Well, I don’t recommend making faces...”

“How about touching faces. Is that okay?” Foggy’s hand reached out but didn’t land anywhere. Matt could feel it hovering near his chin before it veered off to brush lightly against his shoulder.

Letting out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, Matt smiled softly, saying, “If it’s good enough for Captain America...”

Foggy huffed a laugh as he leaned in closer, his voice softly chiding, “You’re nowhere near A-list yet, pal. Besides, what Cap has is a live-in boyfriend who isn’t afraid to want him as much as...”

Matt’s heart hit him hard in the chest, drowning out the sound of Foggy inching closer. At the last moment, Matt smelled the whiskey on Foggy’s breath and realized he’d also leaned in. His senses were so alight with Foggy’s presence, he only found breath enough to whisper, “Me?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t just a word, it was a sigh that held a cloud of sensations, engulfing Matt in not just Foggy, but everything he wanted — the way he tilted his head and leaned a little closer, his hand sliding down Matt’s arm, the smell of saliva evaporating off his lips, the flutter of his eyelashes as he closed his eyes... Hell, the stretch of fabric in the crotch of his pants. _Fuck, yes._

Skin flushed hot and all senses drowning, Matt crossed the tiny divide and pressed his mouth to Foggy’s. Heat. Slick, soft lips. The tip of his tongue on a breath. The roughness of Foggy’s chin under his fingertips. Both of their hearts pounding hard.

“Matt...” Foggy sounded lost and Matt came up for breath, focusing on the spoken conversation, instead of everything else their bodies were saying to each other.

“What? This okay?” Matt couldn’t make himself pull away, but he gave Foggy a little bit of room to answer.

“Okay?” Foggy scoffed. “No wonder you always get the girls. You’re way too good at this. I feel like I should give up now before you realize how bad I—”

“Shut up, Foggy, and kiss me again. It takes both of us, you know.” Matt smiled and pulled Foggy close once more, but he held back long enough for one last quip.

“For better or worse, I guess.”

Matt smiled against Foggy’s lips and nodded just enough for him to feel it. Then he kissed Foggy deeply enough to drown out the rest of Hell’s Kitchen for the rest of the night.

 

~~~

 

Struggling to catch his breath, Steve pushed Bucky away enough to whisper, “Not here.”

Bucky laughed and gave Steve one last kiss, this one light and sweet, everything Steve had never thought he’d have. “Right. Alleys are for fighting, not —”

“Buck...”

Grinning, Bucky let Steve push him out of the alley and down the sidewalk. The streets were still deserted; it’d be another hour or two before people got over the mind-control and returned to their usual routines. Judging by the distant sound of sirens, Stark must have given the NYPD the all-clear to come back and keep watch on all the now-empty shops and unlocked apartments.

“We’ve got a walk if we want to find a cab. Subway lines are still closed,” Steve told Bucky as they walked. Though they didn’t hold hands, Bucky’s shoulder bumped into Steve’s arm with every step.

“May as well just keep walking. Find somewhere to have dinner.”

Steve nodded, glancing at street signs as they passed. In a lot of ways, Hell’s Kitchen hadn’t changed all that much since the old days. Smelled better, but that was about it.

He didn’t have a good read on Matt’s preternatural hearing, except to know that it was better than Tony’s eavesdropping and surveillance gear. He’d have to mention that to Tony one day, take down the famous Stark ego a peg or two. The thought made him grin.

Always sensitive to Steve’s moods, Bucky asked, “What’s so funny?”

“Matt and Tony,” was all Steve had to say to make Bucky laugh — a sound that always lifted Steve’s spirits. Always reminded him that he had his Bucky back.

But they had business to discuss. Steve waited until they were a good six or seven blocks from the bar before speaking again. “So, you approve?”

“I like Foggy.” Bucky tipped his head and glanced sideways up at Steve, almost expectant.

Steve didn’t openly roll his eyes. “If this is the part where I get jealous, keep holding your breath. He’s not your type.”

Bucky let out a huff and elbowed Steve’s ribs. “You could at least pretend.”

“Uh huh.” Feeling a little self-conscious despite the whole ‘out and proud’ thing, Steve put his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “Really, what do you think? Can he keep Matt under control?”

Bucky hummed thoughtfully. “Are you that worried about Matt?”

“He’s dangerous.” Steve took a deep breath. “He’s got one hell of a temper.”

Bucky’s arm went tight around Steve’s waist. After all these years and all that had happened, he was still protective — just one more thing Steve loved about him. “He’s got Foggy to keep him steady,” Bucky said reassuringly. “He won’t go off the rails.”

“We can’t bring him into the Avengers. Not formally.”

“Why not?”

Steve looked up at the crumbling brick buildings next to gleaming new steel and glass skyscrapers. “Because this is where his heart lives. Hell’s Kitchen. He’ll come if we call him, but this is his home.”

“One less place for _us_ to watch.”

Surprised, Steve glanced at Bucky. “You trust them that much?”

Bucky nodded without a moment’s hesitation. “Yeah.”

“You didn’t even see Matt in action.”

“No, but you did — and you came back just fine, for once,” Bucky said, looking Steve up and down.

If anyone else had been around, Steve would’ve pointed out that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but Bucky knew him too well. He’d been saving Steve’s ass for years, and Steve wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
